


Dreamy

by MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Accidental Voyeurism, Comedy, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hand Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/pseuds/MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: Pleased with himself for hiring the lovely and talented Belle French as a temporary employee, Gold is looking forward to a nice long Saturday in the shop with her--until he hears disturbing moans coming from the workroom.2019 TEA WINNER - EVENTS/ A MONTHLY RUMBELLING (SMUT)





	Dreamy

**Author's Note:**

> For the March A-Monthly-Rumbelling smut prompt: Having a wet dream and calling the other’s name during it.

Hiring Belle French had been one of his better decisions, Gold decided as he unlocked the front door to his pawnshop. It was early Saturday morning, the air fresh and warm for early March in Maine. The tempting aroma of Granny’s fresh-baked blueberry muffins and two cups of coffee he’d picked up on the way to the shop wafted from the bag in his hand.

Gold set his bag of treats on the counter and peered back down the street, hoping Belle would be here soon. Four weeks ago he’d invited her on as a temporary employee to evaluate and price a collection of rare books he’d acquired. Working around her library schedule, Belle came into the shop on Saturdays and the occasional evening.

Mostly she stayed in his workroom, dutifully leafing through crates of books, making notations with a clipboard and pen. He would often find her seated cross-legged on the cot, surrounded by piles of the dusty old tomes. But some days she would venture through the curtains and onto the showroom floor. She would hoist herself up on one of the display cases and chatter to him while he settled the accounts and checked inventory, asking him questions about the treasures decorating the shelves and cases. Those lovely smiles and intelligent remarks of hers made hours filled with monotonous paperwork fly by.

Gold caught himself whistling while he hung up his overcoat. When word spread that Belle was working for him, Saturdays quickly became his favorite—and his busiest—day. Thanks to Belle, he’d sold more antiques in the past month than he typically did in half a year. Even though she was there for the book assignment, her enthusiasm about his collection was contagious. She would get so excited about people coming in to pick out presents or collectibles for their homes that she would step in and take over the role of selling, charming even his most cantankerous customers. Even Leroy Kline had started dropping in regularly to buy trinkets for his girlfriend, and Gold hadn’t seen a penny out of that skinflint in fifteen years of doing business.

In truth, he was more than happy to leave Belle to the limelight. While she chatted with the customers, he would fade into the background to soak in her smiles and the sound of her laughter. Sometimes he would even disappear into the back to tinker and make repairs. Belle was a lovely, brilliant woman and he was an antisocial bore. No wonder the customers preferred to shop when she was in the store.

At noon he closed the shop for an hour, and they shared a lunch of take out egg salad sandwiches on olive bread and talked of music and books, food and travel. She even laughed at his feeble jokes. The only other person who did was that fool hatmaker, Jefferson.

He found her enchanting, and despaired of the day a few weeks from now when she would finish cataloguing his books and he would have no excuse to keep her chained to his side every Saturday. Either he would have to purchase several more crates of antique books, or he would have to establish a friendship with her outside the shop. Gold fiddled with his tie pin, thinking up excuses to ask her on a date. A new Thai restaurant had opened two blocks away, and the food was reported to be excellent. Perhaps he would work up the courage to invite Belle to dinner.

Pleased with his tentative plans, he pulled a bottle of glass cleaner from behind the counter and began buffing the display cases to a gleaming shine.

A loud moan came from the workroom, followed by the distinctive sound of laughter. Belle’s laughter. Gold frowned in confusion; from what he had discerned, those books he’d hired her to catalog were not funny. There was another moan, then the low murmur of Belle speaking. _Someone was here with her._

Gold dropped his cleaning rag, feeling as though he’d been slapped. Shock and hurt were soon edged out by anger, and he ground his teeth. This was a place of business! Here he’d been complimenting Miss French and the moment he turned his back, she was entertaining company in the back of his shop in the hour before opening time.

He would give her a piece of his mind and remind her there was work to do. Perhaps even fire her on the spot. To think he’d given her a key to the store and had considered accepting her suggestion of being on a first-name basis. This would teach him to let down his defenses and get friendly.

Gold charged in the direction of the back room, his cane slamming against the floor hard enough to leave pockmarks. He shoved the curtain open, ready to impale whatever bastard she had hiding back here with the pointed end of his cane.

There was Belle, sprawled on the cot he kept in the back corner of the workroom. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, her small hand moving between her pale thighs. Piles of books surrounded her on the cot and the floor, but her eyes were closed. Whether in bliss or in sleep, he couldn’t be sure. She rolled onto her side toward the wall and let out a long, throaty moan. One of the heavy volumes slipped to the floor, thumping on the hardwood in a small plume of dust, but she didn’t seem to notice.

He was rooted to the floor in disbelief, all his weight balanced on his cane. The tip ground into the floor, scuffing the finish.

“Oh, Mr. Gold.” She giggled and cuddled the pillow beneath her head. “You’re so sexy!”

Stunned, he grabbed a fistful of the curtain, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his upper lip. She hadn’t been talking to someone else; she was talking in her sleep. Belle French was having an erotic dream in the back of his shop. About him.

“Oh, Gold, that feels so good.” She rolled onto her back and worked her hand inside her blouse, cupping her breast through her bra and kneading the soft flesh. “Touch me more.”

All the fury he felt only moments ago transformed into white hot desire. In an instant he was rock hard, the sounds and images of Belle pleasuring herself a siren’s song.

“Please, I want you.” The hand inside her shirt wrestled with her bra strap; she moaned, wriggling in frustration, trying to undo the buttons of the blouse while she slept.

Her hips lifted and her free hand snaked down her thigh to touch herself again. “Gold, Gold, oh God, Gold. Oh yes, harder.”

Muffled laughter came from behind him. Gold closed his eyes in horror; he would know that shrill, aggravating chortle anywhere. “What the hell do you want, Jefferson?”

“Well, excuse moi. I came to ask you to breakfast before you open, but it looks like you’re busy.” Jefferson snickered, his sardonic grey eyes fixed on Belle. “God and Gold. Bet you’d never thought you’d hear your name and the Almighty’s in the same statement, did you?

“Turn around,” Gold ordered. If nothing else, he would preserve Belle’s modesty from the idiot’s prying.

“What? Why?” Jefferson sounded startled when Gold seized his shoulders and forced him to face the other way.

“Because this isn’t a porno, you idiot!” he hissed. “Miss French is sleeping!”

“Give it to me,” Belle demanded in her sleep.

“Sleeping or not, she sounds thirsty for the Golden Rod.” Jefferson nudged him in the ribs and laughed again. “You’d better get over there and ‘give it to her’.”

“What are you, twelve fucking years old?” Gold snarled over his shoulder. “Get the hell out of my shop before I spill your guts all over Storybrooke.” His hand tightened on his cane, his grip hard enough to turn his knuckles a stark white.

“Fine.” Jefferson relented in a sing-songy whine. “Call me later?”

“When hell freezes over!” he snarled.

When he heard the front door slam, he moved slowly over to the cot, leaning on his cane every step of the way. He eased down on the edge of the mattress, taking care not to make the cot dip.

Belle rolled onto her back again and whimpered. “Mmmmm, Mr. Gold.”

All the blood in his body rushed south and he ran a hand through his hair. Indecision plagued him. He could sit here like a voyeur and watch her pleasure herself while she slept, then pretend nothing happened. But how could he face her later? How could he watch the same fingers now wet with her arousal flip the pages of old books as though he hadn’t witnessed his most furtive fantasies?

She moaned again, then snorted and opened her eyes. They were unfocused and dark with desire, black pupils eating up the irises.

What should he say?

 _Good morning? How was it? Would you care for coffee or tea?_ No greeting seemed appropriate in light of what he’d just seen, and what he still very much wanted to do. He ran a hand over his face.

“Miss French, awake at last.” He bit his tongue and swore at himself. The comment had come out far more sarcastic than he’d intended.

“Hi.” She fluttered her lashes, then treated him to a dreamy smile. “You’re here.”

“You, uh, seemed to be dreaming.” His throat tightened, along with his cock. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I got here early to get started on the books. It’s such a pretty day, I thought I could get ahead on work and tempt you to take me to the park this afternoon.” She shrugged. “Guess I started too early because I fell asleep.”

“Indeed.” He eyed the opening in her blouse. “You were quite...agitated.”

“I’ve been having dreams like this for a while.” Her chest flushed to a pretty shell pink, and she laid a hand on his knee, giving it a light squeeze. She made no attempt to cover herself; her skirt was still bunched around her waist and her blouse disheveled. It was almost as though she wanted him to find her this way, half-naked and bringing herself off in his shop.

Gold’s pulse skittered. “For a while? Since you’ve been working here?”

“Oh no, these dreams started long before that.” Her breath hitched, bright, lusty eyes begged him to do something.

He ran a light, experimental hand down her bare thigh, causing her to squirm and moan in approval.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was thick in his own ears, low and dangerous. “For me to find you here, wet and needy?”

Her eyes widened at the implication and she rose up on her elbows. “No! No this was an accident.”

“And this blouse?” He tapped her ribs with his cane, the small motion causing her to collapse on the cot again. “Was this an accident?”

“No,” she whispered, regarding him through lowered lashes.

“You said you wanted to _tempt_ me to take you to the park today.”

“That’s right.” Her brow furrowed in adorable confusion.

“Is that why you’re always wearing those see-through blouses?” he asked, flicking the straining button where it pulled across her breasts with the head of his cane. The outline of her navy bra was visible through the sheer silk. He palmed her breast, squeezing lightly. “ _Tempting_ me to suck those sweet nipples?”  

“Oh yes,” she breathed. “Please.”

He circled the head of his cane over her right breast until the nipple puckered. “In your dreams, do I say filthy things to you?”

“Ah...yes!”

Her fingers were still shiny from touching herself, and he was dying for a taste of her. Smirking, he lifted the hand that had been busy between her thighs and brought it to his mouth. He sucked her fingers, the taste of her pussy heady and sweet, then released them with an obscene pop.

His teased her other breast with the tip of his cane, and the sound of her pleasured groan made his cock twitch. His mouth watered at the sight of her pebbled nipples, exquisite even through the silk. They were delicious little apples, the perfect size to fill his hands. He nudged the blouse open wider with the head of his cane, then eased a button open with his fingers.

They were both breathing hard, taking in greedy gulps of air. “Tell me more, Miss French. What else do I do?”

“It’s what I do to you,” she said, dropping her chin to her chest.

“Shy, Miss French?” he asked, confused.

“No.” She licked her lips and met his gaze. This time when she looked down, he followed the direction of her eyes. They were fixed on the front of his trousers where his cock was rigid and straining, tenting his zipper.

“Oh yes?” He shifted on the cot and leaned his cane against the side of the mattress to flex his fingers. “And what do you do to me? Explain.”

“I would rather show you.”

* * *

“Is that right?” he asked, and Belle knew from his tone he was feigning boredom.

The typical know-it-all smirk was etched into his face, but she could see the effect of her words in the tremor of his jaw. Longing, vulnerability. A softness behind the monster mask he wore for the rest of the world.

“Yes.” She stroked a tender hand down his jaw, and he leaned in the caress. “I would.”

“Then show me,” he croaked, the mask faltering. His golden brown eyes smoldered.

Belle looked down at the bulge in his trousers and licked her lips. She reached out and cupped him with her palm. He was hard and hot, searing her flesh through the layers of cotton and wool. “Take yourself out. I want to see you.”

Eyes hungry and dark, he unzipped his trousers, fumbling with the buttons. His belt clinked while he unfastened it and dropped it to the floor. Down slid his pants and his boxers, the clothing pooling around his ankles. His cock was long and thick, and so erect it was brushing his belly.

“Oooooh.” She ran her index finger over the bead of liquid at the tip, scraping him lightly with her nail. Eyes never leaving his, she licked the digit. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re the beautiful one,” he said.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” she confessed, wrapping her hand around his cock. She dipped her other hand into her swollen core, using her arousal to wet him from base to tip. Next she cupped his balls, rolling them lightly in her palm. She gripped his shaft again, and began to move in long, smooth strokes, using the same rhythm she was using on herself. “Does this feel good?”

“God, yes. Don’t stop.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, gripping her thigh with one hand.

She massaged the thin, sensitive ridge along the underside, working her way down to his balls again. “Oh no, I’m never stopping. Not until you burst.”

Another drop of milky white liquid spilled over his blunt head, and the hand on her thigh drifted down to clutch her kneecap. He was hot, thick, and swollen and her pussy clenched when he whined. She rubbed her clit between her thumb and forefinger, squeezing his tip with her other hand.

“You like my hand on you, both of us watching me stroke your cock?” she asked.

He gulped and nodded, his hips jerking toward her as she pleasured him. His eyes were wide and feral, his jaw clenched, as though he couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d wanted him like this for ages—had accepted the job here at the shop because she liked him so much. When he’d asked her to catalog some books, she had leaped at the chance for an excuse to be near him every Saturday.

Now, seeing how wrecked he was with her hand wrapped around him had her teetering on the edge of orgasm, but she needed him to come first. “Next time, I’m gonna strip off your clothes and lay you on your back, ride you till neither of us knows our name. Then while you recover, I’ll let you suck and play with my tits. When you’re still soft and sticky, I’ll lick you till you’re hard as a rock. Bathe you with my tongue until you’re begging me to come again, then suck you off till you’ve given me every last drop.”

The fingers gripping her knee flexed, while his other hand grasped at the blankets. “Fu—Miss French!”

He pulsed against her palm, his cock rigid, and it was all she could do to concentrate on touching both of them at the same time.

“I’m so close,” she choked out, rubbing herself harder. “Baby, are you almost there?”

He threw his head back and howled when he came, a desperate, otherworldly sound. Hot, thick ropes of seed spilled over his trousers and onto the sheet and blanket. She stroked him through his orgasm, wringing every drop from him until he was gasping.

* * *

Next time? There was going to be a next time? The memory of her words buzzed in his ears.

She rose up off the pillow and grabbed his lapels, dragging him toward her. Their kiss was a messy, tangled meeting, her hot breath panting in his mouth. He slumped against her, dazed and completely drained.

Hands shaking, he looked down at the mess he’d made over both their clothes, then down at her folds, still glistening in the low light of the back room. She’d begun to work herself again, and he leaned forward to completely part her gaping blouse, watching her breasts heave. His spent cock twitched while her fingers slid in and out of her heat, her moans growing louder.

“These walls have ears, Miss French,” he leered, hovering closer to breathe into her ear. “Do you want people to hear this, us together?”

“Yes!” She stroked herself faster. “I want everyone to know what you do to me.”

Heart stuttering, he leaned forward to take one of her nipples into his mouth while he sank his hand into her core, his fingers meeting hers. She was molten and tight, already pulsing around his hand, and together they worked her slick pussy. He grazed her nipple with his teeth, plucking and pulling at the other. She gasped, snatching her hand away from her folds and burying them both in his hair, yanking at the roots.

Fanning her neck with his breath, he pumped his fingers in and out of her, babbling nonsense about how gorgeous she was, how long he had wanted her, how desperate he was to watch her come. He leaned back, running his eyes down her body, drinking in the sight of her in the throes of pleasure.

“Oh! Just...oh Gold!” Cheeks flushed and jaw slack, she jerked against his hand, her hips lifting off the cot, and he curled his fingers inside her to brush her clit with his knuckles. She screamed, and a gush of liquid poured over his fingers and palm, trickling down her thighs and over the cot to mingle with his come.

He gentled his strokes while she recovered, her eyelashes fluttering, eyes dreamy and unfocused. He withdrew his fingers from her body and she whimpered. Only then did the gravity of what they’d done begin to sink in. Any moment now she would come to her senses and push him away. He was her employer, however briefly, and he’d taken advantage of her confusion, practically mauling her while she slept. Frantic, Gold grappled for his cane, squeezing the head. “I-I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Narrowed blue eyes flashed at him, carrying a warning. “Unless that apology is attached to an excellent reason why you can’t take me to dinner tonight, I don’t want to hear it.”

Relief coursed through him. “No. I mean, yes,” he stammered. “I would love to take you to dinner, Miss French. Seven o’clock?”

“There’s a new Thai place not far from here,” she prompted.

“Yes,” he said, confounded that she wanted to go out with him but too grateful to do anything but agree to whatever she said. “I’d heard about that myself.”

“Good.” She nodded and smoothed her skirt down over the tops of her thighs, then sat up. “You have a spare set of trousers in your closet. I’m going to go home and clean up.”

“I...all right,” he said, disappointed. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to see her for the rest of the day as planned, smell her scent all over him, and fantasize about their hands on each other’s bodies. He toyed with the head of his cane. “If you’ll permit me, I have some new dresses in the back. There’s a particularly lovely blue one that looks to be about your size.”

Who was he kidding? Of course it was her size. They were _all_ in her size, as he’d purchased them with her in mind.

“Great. But I think, given the circumstances, you ought to start calling me Belle.” She beamed and brushed a kiss across his flushed cheek.

“I like having you here, Belle,” he confessed. His face reddened as he realized the implication of his words. “I mean in the shop. I like having you here in the shop. Working. With me.”

Her smile broadened into something wicked, her gaze hot with carnal promises. “I like _having_ you here, too. And I’ll take a look at those dresses whenever you’re ready.”

“Hmm.” He pressed her shoulders back until she was lying on the cot again. “Maybe in a few minutes.”

###

**Author's Note:**

> This just wouldn't leave me alone.


End file.
